


Leave This Heart of Clay

by azephirin



Category: Black Dagger Brotherhood - Ward
Genre: Alternate Canon, Best Friends, Blow Job, Brotherhood, Challenge Response, Cuddling and Snuggling, First Time, Love, Multi, Porn, Porn Battle, Soul Bond, Threesome, Trauma Recovery, Vampires, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>If I could through myself / Set your spirit free / I'd lead your heart away / See you break, break away / Into the light / And to the day....</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave This Heart of Clay

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**: The Black Dagger Brotherhood is the intellectual property of and copyrighted by J. R. Ward/Jessica Bird. I make no profit; I'm flat broke and doing this out of love; please don't sue me.  
> **Author's note:** Written for oxoniensis's [Porn Battle VI](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/363932.html), where I posted [a significantly abridged version](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/363932.html?view=18556828#t18556828). Title, cut tag, and summary from the song "[Bad](http://www.macphisto.net/u2lyrics/Bad.html)" by U2. My writing style and J. R. Ward's could not possibly be more different unless we were writing in different languages and character sets; I have not tried to imitate her style here, because I'd just sound like an asshat.  
> **Quick glossary for folks who haven't read the BDB books:**  
> _hellren_: A mated male; translates roughly to "husband," but stronger. (Vampires mate for life, which in this world is 900–1000 years.)  
> _nalla_ (f.)/_nallum_ (m.): Endearment roughly translating to "darling."  
> _shellan_: A mated female; roughly translates to "wife," but stronger.

"I think it would help," she whispers. She's curled up against him, one long leg curved over his hip, and he still can't believe she's his, that he's hers, that he'll ever come close to deserving someone like her.

She has faith in him, and he tries to remember that.

"But we're friends, baby," he says. He doesn't mean to, but his voice comes out as low as hers.

"_Nallum_," she says, with affection, "I know. Do you think I would agree to it otherwise?"

****

_We'll do this the easy way first,_ Butch had said. _Easy does it,_ and his hands had been light and soothing on V's face, body, chest.

_Don't be fucking gentle with me,_ V had wanted to snarl. _There's nothing easy about this._

But what do you do? What do you do when your head's in your best friend's fucking lap, and you're twisting so that you can suck on his fingers, all while his _shellan_, beautiful, naked, with skin as pale as a sacred dove and hair shimmering like the full moon, is riding you with an expression of serene pleasure shaping the fine bones of her face?

She's not rough—nothing about her is rough—but she's not gentle, either. She's just taking what she wants, but giving back, too. Giving the sheath of her body and the warmth of her touch. Her graceful hands rest lightly on V's chest, and he has the inane urge to kiss them.

He's never been like this before, never in three hundred years, and he doesn't want to make noise, but one escapes anyway, around where his tongue is tasting the callused pads of Butch's fingers, and V squeezes his eyes closed in shame.

Butch bends down, and his lips are dangerously close to V's ear. "No, man, let me hear it. Let her hear it. Let her know how gorgeous she is, how good she's making you feel." Butch pulls his fingers free to trace the shape of V's lips, and this time it's a moan, clear, helpless.

Butch kisses the next one out of his mouth.

V's never let himself reach orgasm with any of his females, and he doesn't know whether he wants to now, but it's starting to feel inevitable, with Marissa's enveloping liquid heat around him and Butch's slow, sure kisses opening up pieces of himself that V didn't know he had. V doesn't know what to do with his hands, and the normal one lands of its own accord on Marissa's thigh, while the gloved one makes a fist in the sheets. He tears his mouth away from Butch's, panting (he is not moaning again, he is not, he is _not_)—

—and then Marissa rises up and off and settles on her knees next to him.

V's eyes fly open. He wants to come. Maybe. He wants to burn something. Definitely.

Butch and Marissa kiss—messy, smiling, intimate—and then they're trading places. V's confused, so aroused he can't think—why is Butch moving so far down, like he's going to lie at the end of the bed—

—Oh.

Butch laughs, gravelly affection, and V feels his eyes widen as Butch lowers his head to lick at the tip of V's cock. Then Butch looks back up again, with the expression he gets before he throws a long pass, before he launches a Red Bliss potato through somebody's window, before he suits up to go out with the brothers. Like this is a game he's sure he's going to win, and, the bastard, he probably will.

"I'm gonna suck your cock," Butch informs him, and V feels himself blush—actually blush, and there's another thing he knows he's never done before. "I'm gonna lick her taste off you, and then when I'm finished with that, I'm gonna lick you some more, until I'm done. You don't have to do anything but lie there. Just enjoy it, what my mouth feels like on you, because I know I'm going to enjoy what you feel like in my mouth. You don't have to come, although I'd sure as hell like it if you did."

_I'm not right down there,_ Vishous wants to say; _I'm not right and it's ugly._

Butch fits his mouth over V's cock, and V's back arches despite himself, and the last dim rational part of his brain, before disappearing completely, realizes that Butch knows that, and he just doesn't care.

Marissa's stroking his hair and scalp, letting her hands move farther and farther down with each pass, until those elegant patrician fingers find his nipples and start to play. And all this while her _hellren_ sucks him, holding Vishous down by the hips, making contented guttural noises in his throat that casually announce that he really is enjoying what he's doing. V manages to prop himself up on his elbows, and he can see Butch making shallow thrusts into the bedclothes, in the same rhythm his mouth is using on V's cock.

V collapses again.

He thought it would take longer than this, thought it would have to be coaxed out of him like he's some nervous fucking _newling_. He doubts Butch has done this before, but it doesn't matter: Just the fact of his best friend's lips wrapped around him is enough to bring Vishous close to the edge. He gasps to Marissa, "Use your mouth" (and it's not a command; it's a plea). She does, and V buries his good hand in Butch's mussed hair. He tries to get some kind of warning out, let Butch move away, but if anything Butch's hands press even more firmly on his hips, and the suction is harder, the movement faster.

V is done.

There's noise now, the cry ripped from his throat as he comes. He's shaking, can feel himself pulling at Butch's hair, hears the fabric tear in his other hand. He wants to thrust up, but Butch is still holding him down, and it just makes him come harder, the shout turning to a straight-up whimper as Butch licks him through the aftershocks. Marissa kisses him, and he gives in to it. He's surrendered, he realizes, just as much as any of his submissives ever did—no, more, because there's no contract, no safe word, just the three of them trusting each other.

_Trust_, Vishous thinks, and he doesn't fight when Butch moves back up and kisses him with the taste of V's semen still in his mouth.

_Trust_.

*****

She lies stretched out against Vishous's back, breathing in the close smell of the sweat on the back of his neck, holding him with her arm around his chest and her leg over his thighs. He's so much bigger than she is, taller and broader, a fighter and a warrior, but she feels fierce, protective, wanting to take his hurts into herself to lessen them a little bit.

Butch has his arms around Vishous from the other side, and Marissa examines herself, tries to understand why she's not jealous. If Butch was touching anyone else like that, she'd get one of those Glocks out of the closet and figure out how to use it. This just feels...natural. Like they finally figured out something obvious, something they should have put together a long time ago.

It feels normal.

She smiles against the nape of Vishous's neck, she can't help it, because when did this become normal? When did she go from being Wrath's ignored, uninteresting, sheltered, sequestered _shellan_-in-name-only to a brazen female who lies with two males—and, for that matter, who lies with two males who have lain with each other?

She doesn't know when it happened, but she welcomes it.

They're kissing now, and she props herself on an elbow to watch. It's a beautiful sight, the two males tangled in each other—just a physical manifestation, she thinks, of what their emotions have been doing since the day they met. Not that either of them would ever say that out loud, of course. It would not be seemly. And she wants to smile again, because this is scandalous and unheard-of and there's nothing seemly about it, and she's grateful that it didn't happen any other way.

She kisses Vishous's hairline, the spot below his ear. His hand finds hers on his chest, and he covers her fingers with his. Then she feels another hand making its way underneath to cover hers from the other side, and she laces her fingers with her _hellren_'s. Butch moves his other hand from Vishous's hip to hers, and they lie there like that, the three of them knotted together in the dark.

She's most of the way to sleep when her nose picks up the smell she'd know anywhere—conscious, unconscious, maybe even dead and gone to the Fade. She smiles and squeezes Butch's hand, and he squeezes back. She falls a little bit deeper, is most of the way to dreaming—

There's another scent in the room. She can identify the type readily enough—the purpose and, she imagines, the essential chemical composition are the same—but this scent, this particular scent, is quite new to her. Butch's is heavier, dark with spice, like good coffee and that tea, chai, that Beth sometimes drinks. This new smell is lighter but its notes clearer, sandalwood, bergamot, and ginger, and Marissa presses her face to the back of Vishous's neck, breathes it in. She feels Butch move, and he shifts Vishous onto his back, slides his hands into his hair and kisses him again. She moves, too, pressing her lips lightly to Vishous's, keeping the touch light and undemanding until he opens his mouth to take her in. When she finally pulls away, she lifts her head to kiss Butch, letting him taste the other male on her tongue. She knows that they can smell each other, that she smells like them.

This changes everything, and she's glad.


End file.
